After finishing breakfast, Athan stepped out of the military base. The streets were unnaturally quiet. The marketplace, usually bustling with life, now resembled a ghost town. All the stores were closed. No chatter, no footsteps—just silence.
As he walked farther in, the emptiness grew eerie. Only a few stray cats and dogs lingered. Then, suddenly, a scent hit his nose—sharp and unmistakable, Blood.
Athan's body tensed. He followed the scent cautiously, his instincts on high alert. He took cover behind a wall, peeking around the corner. that's when he saw it.
Ten—maybe thirteen—knights lay dead in the street. Limbs were missing. Faces unrecognizable. Some had been outright beheaded. It wasn't a battlefield—it was a massacre. And unlike the wars he'd fought in with his empire against the elves, there was no dignity here. No honor. Just carnage.
He didn't reveal himself. Instead, he crouched lower, analyzing the scene with cold, sharp eyes.
The blood was still fresh. Too fresh. The bodies hadn't even begun to cool.
What in the world…? Who did this? Was it a hidden enemy faction? Spies? Assassins? Athan wondered.
Then, movement.
From a shattered storefront near the massacre, several figures emerged. The shop's shutter was torn off. The people stepping out were… wrong. Athan could smell it immediately—an inhuman, rotting scent.
Ghouls? Here? So this world has them too? If that's true, then what other subclasses exist in this realm?
Two of the figures were clearly ghouls, but different from the ones he knew. They had long, scaled tails and fish-like scales running along their arms and cheeks. Their claws were long and sharp, and their skin was pale with a purplish hue, like lower-tier ghouls. Their eyes were blank—lifeless.
Behind them, several human-looking individuals appeared, but all shared that same white-purple skin. And finally, stepping out last, was a man clad entirely in black armor. From head to toe, he was covered—no skin exposed, no insignia visible.
Now that's interesting… a fully armored demi-human? Or perhaps their leader? These ghouls are different. Maybe this world has evolved versions… or maybe demi-humans come in varied forms here. And who the hell is that guy?
One of the scaly ghouls turned and barked, "We'll complete the cleanup."
Psycho, Athan thought, narrowing his eyes. They killed knights like they were nothing… and now they're cleaning up the mess? Like it means nothing?
The armored man suddenly turned to the ghoul and slapped him hard across the face.
"I won't repeat myself," he growled. "You didn't clean properly. And how the hell is that one still peeking from behind the wall? Go finish him off!"
Athan blinked. Shit.
He cursed under his breath. I was so focused on the bodies… I forgot the situation. Idiot. I didn't want to close their Sunday like this. May the gods forgive me.
He stepped out from behind the wall.
At once, he sensed it—another subclass was among them. One he couldn't name right away, but its aura was faintly familiar.
He began walking toward the massacre site, toward the ghouls.
"I'm more disappointed in myself than anything else," Athan muttered aloud.
The black-armored man tilted his head. "You look different… What are you?"
"I have no obligation to explain myself to a serial-killing psychopath," Athan replied calmly.
The man didn't flinch. Instead, he gestured.
One of the scaly ghouls lunged at Athan, claws raised high. The attack was fast—but not fast enough.
Athan didn't move an inch.
He caught the ghoul's claw mid-swing with one hand, then yanked the creature forward. In the same moment, Athan twisted his hips and drove a brutal kick into the ghoul's stomach. The impact sent the monster flying backward like a broken doll, crashing into the side of a nearby shop. The wall crumbled under the force, collapsing with a thunderous crack.
"Oops," Athan said dryly. "I was going easy on him. Didn't think he'd smash through a wall."
The armored man narrowed his eyes.
"I knew something was off. You blocked his claw and launched him like that? It means one of two things: either he was holding back… or you're far too strong."
"You still haven't figured it out," Athan said with a slight smile. "That was nothing to me. A vampire against a ghoul? You must be joking."
He stepped forward, shadows flickering beneath his feet.
"I'm not just any vampire. I've evolved—ascended to a level no one before me has reached. I'm a high-ranking vampire beyond even legend."
The armored man scoffed. "You talk a lot of nonsense for a kid."
Athan's grin sharpened. "I could say the same to you."
At once, the remaining ghouls shifted into battle stance. Athan adjusted his own posture, lowering his center of gravity, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The ghouls charged at Athan. He didn't hesitate—he ran straight toward them.
One of the ghouls suddenly skidded to a halt. Its jaws opened wide, and a stream of fire erupted from its mouth.
Athan's eyes narrowed. He leapt into the air, twisting his body mid-flight to evade the fireball. He landed behind the ghoul just as it finished its breath attack. Without pause, he delivered a brutal kick to its side. A sickening crack echoed through the air as bones shattered. The ghoul's body slammed into a storefront, the impact caving in the wall.
But Athan had no time to rest. More ghouls swarmed toward him.
He spun and drove his fist through one of their chests, creating a gaping hole. Another lunged at him, but he grabbed its head and crushed it with a single motion, spraying blood across the cobbled street.
From the shadows, the black-armored man watched.
He's powerful… If I make him my puppet, I'll be rewarded beyond imagination, maybe I can bring them back one day, the armored figure thought.
Seeing Athan distracted by the ghouls, the armored man seized his chance. Gathering a swirling black mist in his palm, he hurled it at Athan from behind.
But before it could strike, Athan vanished.
A split second later, he reappeared atop a nearby rooftop, crouching. Blood trickled from his fingertips, gathering and solidifying into a blade—short, sharp, and fused to his arm like an extension of himself.
"You think cheap tricks will work on me?" Athan growled. "Fight me one-on-one, not like a coward."
With that, he launched himself at the remaining ghouls.
He moved like a storm. In seconds, they were nothing but lifeless husks scattered across the street.
From above, the black-armored man activated his full armor set. A dark mist burst from his back, lifting him into the air. He conjured a massive blade of corrupted energy and dived toward Athan like a hawk striking its prey.
Athan looked up, disappointment flashing in his crimson eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a wall of hardened blood.
The dark blade collided with the wall. The impact shattered both—mist dissipating, blood splattering. In the next instant, Athan lunged forward and punched the black-armored man square in the chest.
The force sent him flying. but Athan wasn't done.
Before the armored man could crash into a wall, Athan appeared in front of him mid-air, gripping him by the throat. The impact shattered the armor around his neck, pieces clattering to the ground.
"Why did you kill those knights?!" Athan demanded.
"Go to hell!" the armored man spat.
Athan's eyes glowed a deeper red, fury boiling to the surface.
"Listen to me," he hissed. "I have the power to make you kneel. You're alone now—no backup, no soldiers, no escape. Tell me the truth if you want to live."
The black-armored man laughed bitterly.
"Thanks for the reminder. I am alone. No family. No friends. No one left… They took everything from me. I'm already dead—just a walking corpse. I won't tell you anything. You'll die with me."
"What—?!"
Before Athan could react—
A deafening explosion erupted.
BOOM!
A wave of fire and dust consumed the street.
The black-armored man lay amidst the rubble, his armor shredded by the explosion. His body was battered, ears ringing, and he could barely hear anything from his left side. But above him, the sky stretched open—clear, distant, and peaceful.
"We're far from the city now. Near the forest," Athan said.
Turning his head, the man spotted Athan nearby. His arm was mangled beyond recognition—flesh torn away, only bone remaining. Yet despite the damage, Athan stood.
"Why… did you save me?" the man whispered. "Didn't I try to kill you? Not that it matters. I'm going to die anyway."
Athan stared down at him, crimson eyes softening. "Why did I save you? I don't know," he said quietly. "But… something told me you needed love, not revenge."
The man scoffed weakly, spitting blood. "How dare you, kid… saying nonsense in front of me…"
But his voice faded as he caught something impossible—Athan's ruined arm was healing. Muscle reformed, sinew tightened, and skin slowly knit itself back together.
Athan exhaled a heavy sigh. "You told me you lost everything. That you lost love. I saved you because… maybe, just maybe, someone who once loved you would've done the same. You're drowning in pain, man. Killing yourself won't bring them back."
Abraham turned slightly, trying to look at his body, but the pain was too much. All he saw was his boot—somehow still intact amid the wreckage. He gave a low, bitter chuckle as more blood bubbled from his mouth.
"Kid… what's your name?" he asked faintly.
"Athan."
"I'm Abraham," he said, voice cracking. "You've got the power of something… great. I hope you'll be able to protect the ones you love…"
He coughed—violently. His body shook once, then went still. Blood pooled beneath him. His chest no longer rose.
Before Athan could reply, Abraham was gone.
Athan knelt beside him silently. He reached out and gently closed Abraham's eyes.
"…Rest now, fallen one...."